Wheatley's Nights at Freddy's
by BabyCharmander
Summary: In a desperate attempt to escape being punished by GLaDOS, Wheatley begs for a job, but the job he gets isn't exactly what he was expecting. Now he must survive an unknown number of nights at a part of Aperture that has, for many years, lied dormant. But its inhabitants have been waiting...
1. The Introduction

Hiya folks! BabyCharmander here with… a crossover? Haven't done that sort of fanfic in a while.

In any case, people have brought up the idea of a _Portal_/_Five Nights at Freddy's_ crossover several times, and I've seen some great fanart of it. But some folks brought up the idea of Wheatley working the job in particular, and the idea sounded amusing enough to write! And surprisingly enough, I was able to fairly easily merge the two worlds. I did have to change up some of the things regarding the animatronics in order to make the crossover work, but that sort of thing's to be expected.

So uh, I guess that's it. On with the fic!

* * *

It was amazing, really, how quickly Wheatley could regret a decision.

One moment he was in space, wishing he were back "home" in the facility—where things weren't boring, where he could move, where he could get away from defective cores rambling endlessly about space…

And the next moment (or what felt like it, anyway) he was back in the facility, immediately wishing he _hadn't _wished that he was away from space—where gravity wasn't in effect, where he was safe, where there wasn't a murderous AI looking to enact revenge on him.

The AI in question was currently faced away from him, but that didn't make things much better. For while she studied a panel on the far side of the room, she was holding him in a claw, tossing him into the air, and catching him, repeating the cycle over and over again. After his initial panic had subsided, he soon realized that GLaDOS had no intentions of dropping him—rather, she was simply tossing him around as one would a ball while one was thinking.

Not exactly a comforting thought.

Still, he tried to talk it off, as he would anything else.

"So—um—nice—to—be—back—here—really—nice—of—you—to—rescue—me—" His vocal processor kept jumping and skipping from the constant motion, so he tried a slightly different route. "Maybeifyou—stoppedtossingme—wecouldmaybe—talkthisout?"

The claw tossed him into the air for the thousandth time before _clenching_ around him, and immediately _she _whipped around, her massive yellow optic staring into his dot of a blue one. "_If I had planned on talking this out with you, don't you think I would have done that by now?_"

Her voice was a lot louder and scarier than he'd remembered. He barely managed a squeak in reply.

"_Oh, that's right. You don't think._"

With that, she began to turn around, and he squirmed in panic. "Wai—wait!" he cried, and she stopped, not staring at the opposite side of the room but not looking at him, either. "I—look, okay, I know you're planning on doing… s-something awful to me, right?"

_Clap, clap, clap._

"_Amazing. I wasn't aware you had a correct thought in your processor._"

"Y-yeah!" If he'd been able to recognize her sarcasm, he would've been too nervous to register it anyway. "See, you uh—don't have to do that, b-because I'm… sorry?"

GLaDOS was silent for a moment or two, during which Wheatley's lower eye shield pulled up in a hopeful smile.

"_If that was an actual _attempt _at lying, that's sadder than I can say._"

The smile faded.

"L-look, please, j-just give me a second chance?" A whirring noise caught his attention, and he glanced to the side to see another claw descending several feet away. Without warning, he was suddenly tossed to the other claw, which tossed him back to the first claw, back and forth, like some kind of metal hackey sack. "Agh…!"

"_You're not giving me any good reasons to do that,_" GLaDOS said in a bored tone of voice. "_I think I may just have to introduce you to the incinerator._"

"_NOOO_!" Wheatley howled. "Don't do that! D-don't incinerate me, I'll do anything—"

The claw held him still.

"_Anything?_" GLaDOS's head turned very slightly in his direction.

"Y… yeah!" Wheatley's hopeful grin quickly returned, though his optic's aperture was still contracted to a sharp pinpoint. "I-I could… um… w-_work _for you! Right? Ah, always good to have a bit of, um, h-help around the facility…"

"_Actually, no. The facility was doing fine before _you _ruined it_."

A couple edgeless safety cubes dropped from the ceiling as the claw tossed him into the air again. Within seconds the two claws were effortlessly juggling the assortment of metal spheres, and Wheatley was feeling dizzy. "But—but you need help with _something_, right?" he cried. "I-I've got experience working—working lots of jobs! Yeah, lots of 'em, I can do _something_, like—like work on the nanobot crew, assistant-to-the-guy-in-charge-of-the-neurotoxin-button, monitoring the humans—"

One of the claws snapped him into its grip again, holding him still until he was pelted by the neglected edgeless safety cubes. "Ow…"

"_Hmmm?_" GLaDOS was getting close to looking at him again. "_What was that last one?_"

"I said 'ow'—generally regarded as a cry of pain—_oh_, you mean the humans! Yeah, I monitored the humans! All the humans, all the ones in the extended relaxation center. Did that for a—uh—long time, so, loads of experience there—"

"_And how well did you do your job?_"

"Oh!" In spite of his fear, Wheatley still found it in his ability to shift his body in a swagger. "I was an _expert _human… monitor… core… thing. Best core on the job! I mean, granted, I was the _only _core on the job, heh—but! Really, did a _stellar _job, if you don't mind my saying."

"_That's what I thought_." And finally she swung around to face him, studying his optic carefully. "_I have the _perfect _job for you_."

Wheatley cringed in the yellow light, and his voice squeaked, partially in terror and partially in excitement. "You—you _do_! Hah, knew it! Great news for—for me—you—everyone involved—"

"_You won't be watching _humans_, mind you, but I believe this job is well within your… capabilities._"

"G—_good_! Great! Tremendous!" He wished she wouldn't lean in close like that, with her optic narrowing—creepy. "Wh… what is it?"

* * *

"This is, um. A bit different from my previous job, I have to say. Is there—is there any chance I can get a rail, of some sort, or—?"

"_If you want any chance of… _succeeding_, I suggest you listen to me._"

"R-_right_! Will do."

Wheatley shuffled uncomfortably on the leather seat of the stool he was precariously perched on. He imagined that it had maybe been a nice plush leather seat some decades ago, but now the leather was worn and thin and whatever fluff had been stuffed into had long since taken a hike, leaving nothing between the leather covering and the wooden base. This also meant he was in danger of rolling off and banging optic-first into the floor if he so much as _twitched_ the wrong way.

At least, it would mean that if he didn't have a thick cable stuck into his back port. So if he rolled off, he would more likely be suspended a few inches off the ground, provided the cable didn't decide to detach itself from some machine on the back wall.

He couldn't look back at the machine—the cable limited his movement—but he _could _see that the room he was in was quite small. If he really thought about it—which took some effort—he imagined maybe three people could stand in this room side-by-side, maybe with an inch or so of that "personal space" stuff between. It was also dimly lit, with a single light hanging overhead that illuminated a table, upon which sat an ancient computer, a monitor, and some coffee mugs—those seemed to be everywhere around Aperture. The wallpaper was old, rotted, and peeling; the checkered floor was cracked and dusty; and the bulletin boards were plastered with old notes too faded to read.

Well, except one.

And it wasn't really a note—it was more of a poster, with… what appeared to be Science experiments gone wrong. They were human-shaped, but certainly not human. They had traits of animals on them: one of them had long-ish ears, another had shorter ears, and one had what appeared to be a beak.

_Ugh, birds._ Wheatley shuddered.

"_You are currently placed in the security booth in an old wing of the facility_, _out on the earth's surface,_" came GLaDOS's tinny voice over an aging intercom. "_It was built in the 1980s, a little before my time. According to this file, Aperture Science was still trying to work out its android robotics. They failed in the laboratories, but some brilliant scientist managed to repurpose a few of them._"

"Oh! That was… that's nice of him." He twitched, eying the figures on the poster warily and shuddering. Feeling his casing beginning to tip, he forced himself to keep still.

"_The result was using them for entertainment purposes for children._"

Having studied the poster for a few uncomfortable moments, he began to see how these designs might possibly appeal to small children on some level. On a very low level, and possibly to very deranged children.

"_They were placed in this restaurant, where they were programmed to perform musical numbers and comedy shows for the children and adults that dined there._"

"Look, sounds great—but, where do _I _come in, here?"

"_But _unfortunately_,_" GLaDOS went on, "_the androids still retained some of their previous programming._"

"Unfortunately? What's so unfortunate about that?" Wheatley pulled his face back indignantly. "I'm not bloody stuck onto you anymore, but _I _still have my previous programming."

"**Unfortunately**,"—the speakers sparked with the force of her voice—"_the androids still retained some of their previous programming. Some of their _military _programming._"

Wheatley blinked incomprehensively.

"_They still killed people._"

"…_Oh._" He was starting to see why GLaDOS wanted him to have this job.

"_But after the first four or five incidents, their walking functions were disabled, resulting in no unwanted murders. The unfortunate side effect was that too much immobility caused _all _of their servos to lock up. As a solution, they were allowed to walk around at night._"

"M-makes sense… But what do I—"

"_Of course, they would need to be monitored closely._"

"Right! Of course, can't have a bunch of murderous robots roaming around without someone to… t-to…" His voice faltered. "A-aaaahhahah…"

"_Well, anyway. I've been thinking about renovating this place for some time now. It would be a good way to attract more humans. And more humans means more potential test subjects. It's an idea I've been bouncing around, but could you believe I had _no _volunteers to be the night shift guard? That is, until _you _so helpfully volunteered yourself._"

She was smiling—he _knew _she was smiling—

"_Thanks for that._"

Wheatley really, _really _wished he were back in space.

"_So I've had the nanobots bring the androids back into working order. Once midnight comes along, they'll regain their walking functions. It is your job to watch over them and make sure they stay safe._"

"_They_ stay safe?!" Wheatley sputtered.

"_Oh, and, of course, you'll need to survive. Otherwise I'm going to have a very difficult time finding another volunteer for this job._"

"_Yes, of course_!" His voice had long since abandoned its usual pitch, opting for something several octaves higher. "Th-that's incredibly easy t-to do, with, y'know, no arms, legs, _mobility of any sort_—"

"_Your security room is equipped with electromagnetic doors, which you have access to via the cable on your back port. You also have access to all security cameras in the restaurant, which you can view in your processor_."

Immediately the magnetic doors slammed down, and Wheatley frantically flipped between cameras, trying to spot the murderous robots before they found him.

"_I should mention. Because that wing of the facility is so outdated and has been left alone for so long, I've been having trouble powering it. So you may want to be cautious with how much you use those doors and those cameras._"

The doors shot open and Wheatley flicked his vision back to his optic. "C—can I still use my flashlight, at least?!" He turned it on, peering into the darkness through the doorways on either side of the room.

"_Hm, yes, but I've also wired that directly to the wing's power_."

The flashlight snapped offline, and with a desperate look, Wheatley swung his optic to the speaker in the corner. "Is there _any _cheering news, here?!"

"_Yes. You'll only be working for six hours._"

Wheatley groaned, his faceplate slumping until it clunked against the bottom of his casing. "C-couldn't you just… I don't know—wouldn't it be easier to just—y'know, de-program the murdering-ness out of the androids? Or something? Seems a lot less, um, complicated…"

"_But then you'd be out of a job. And the incinerator would have a new occupant._"

He was starting to think that the incinerator sounded infinitely better than this. "W-well, they're… androids, at least, right? F-fellow robots—"

"_Yes, and you get along _so_ well with those._"

He flinched.

"_I should also note that these androids can be a little… well, _jealous _of more advanced technology. If you're lucky, they may just strip you of your casing and string your wiring through one of their spare animal suits so you can work alongside them. Fancy that._" Here she paused, and he thought he could hear her mechanics whirring as she turned to look at something. "_Well, look at that. Midnight already. I'd better leave you to it, then. Good luck, _moron_._"

With a muffled click, the intercom shut out, leaving Wheatley alone in the dark, barely-powered wing of the facility with nothing but several murderous robots for company.


	2. The First Night

Decided to upload the second chapter alongside the first. Lucky you, reader. :P

Let's start night one!

* * *

Wheatley spent the first several minutes digging through his processor for something—_anything_—that would help. He was hoping he had a weapon of some sort—perhaps a taser or lasers or mashy spike plates or something to ward off deranged military androids—but no luck. However, he _did _find what appeared to be a display specifically for this job, and quickly activated it.

A digital clock appeared at the top of his vision, while a small meter showing power usage and the percent of power he had left appeared at the bottom. These took up little space, allowing him to still view the room and cameras easily.

"_Right_. Okay. Should be simple. Just have to hold off for—wha'd she say—six hours? What would that be, 5—no—6 AM? Yeah—not a problem!" His voice didn't quite match the confidence he was aiming for, however, and for once he was grateful no one was around to hear his nervous rambling.

No one but the androids, anyway.

With a sharp gasp, he flicked on the cameras again, jumping from one view to another. Visions of a dimly-lit dining area and hallways hopped across his vision until he came to a shady room full of animal masks and robot heads, with the label "BACKSTAGE" at the top of his display. His vocal processor mimicked a hissing breath as the camera slowly turned back and forth, allowing him to look over the table upon which robot heads and electronics had been strewn across. A few of the heads were fitted with masks, which stared blankly to the side, while some shelves against the wall displayed empty masks.

It might not have been so bad if Wheatley hadn't known these things had _bodies _they were supposed to be attached to.

An image flashed across his processor: his own body, stripped of its casing and handles, lying on some table in a dark room full of core parts. Shivering, he switched his view to the show stage camera.

And there they were.

The things in the poster _definitely _looked kid-friendly compared to the monstrosities the camera was staring at. The poor lighting cast eerie shadows over the inactive androids, their metal bodies covered mostly by plastic and rubber suits in some sort of awful condition. Scratches and scars were scattered over the suits, dust coated them, and their color had faded with age. One was a purple… thing with long ears (what was that—_rabbit_?), one was a yellow bird (they could be colors other than black?), and another was a bear (whoever thought that some vicious predator could be viewed as _child-friendly_?).

The three stood together on the ancient stage, unmoving.

"H… heh," Wheatley forced out. "Said the nanobots fixed 'em up… sure doesn't look like it. Didn't fix those ugly suits, if they fixed anything. How long've those things been standing there?" It seemed like they'd been there for ages, just left there to rust… Unconsciously he flexed his handles. "Bet they just _barely _fixed 'em up. Doesn't look like they did much."

An idea struck him, and he grinned. "Hah! Bet those things can't move at all! Been sittin' there, rusted for ages—can't move anymore. Easy job, then! Watch over a bunch of immobile robots. Less mobile than a _core_—now that's sayin' something!" Though he did pause there, switching his view back to his optic and glancing down at the floor from his perch. "Not that I'm exactly pleased with this predicament… But, could be worse! Could be one of _those _things, hah!"

Still, he shuffled uncomfortably on the stool before abruptly swinging his lower handle downward when the stool began to tip. He successfully steadied himself, but still glared unhappily at the floor. "Bloody awful seat. Couldn't _she_ have, I dunno, installed a core receptacle back here? Bloody heck—'m not used to this." He thought back to roaming around the extended relaxation center to check on the rooms on occasion—he'd used his management rail extensively, then, and yet his _current _job had him sitting in one place. He flipped through the cameras again, grumbling. "Be nice to be able to, y'know, move around on a rail, get a better look at the place, and all. Also keep away from the bloody murderous robots I'm supposed to be watching. 'Least they can't m—"

The camera switched to the show stage, and one of the animatronics was gone.

Something akin to a strangled, static-filled yelp tore from Wheatley's processor as he frantically moved the camera, double- and triple-checking the stage. One, two—no, there were definitely only two animatronics there, and one of them was definitely gone. Bird, bear—rabbit. The purple rabbit was gone.

"Okay okay okay so maybe they _can _move," he stammered, shivering uncontrollably. "Sorry, mates! Didn't mean to, uh, _doubt _your capabilities or anythin'." Suddenly he realized he wasn't sure if these things could hear him or not, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out. Switching the camera, he looked around the backstage, then the dining area, and was partially relieved and partially horrified to catch a glimpse of a shadowed animatronic rabbit standing behind some tables.

Standing—not moving.

"You're—y—not supposed to be there, mate," he said quietly. With a quick glance at an internal map, he guessed the rabbit had simply walked off of the stage and taken a few paces toward the tables, all without Wheatley's notice. Now that he was focused on the thing, it had stopped moving. Did they not like to move when being watched? "Look, rabbit-thing, you can cut that out now! I—I know you can move. Saw you do it—or, well, I saw that you had left the stage and you're now—uh—_not _on the stage, but, if you could, j-just… turn around, and get back to where you were, and we'll call it a night. Right?"

The android did not move.

"C'mooon, just move, already! Or—ooooh, can you not do it while I'm watching?" He tilted his faceplate; the concept was far from unknown among Aperture's constructs. He himself disliked being watched while entering commands into a receptacle—_any _core did, really. Who wouldn't want a little privacy for that? Though being uncomfortable with being watched while one was _moving _was a bit odd, especially for a military android. Still, if that's all it was, it wouldn't be difficult to get him back on stage. "Well… all right. Go on, then; I won't look."

With that, he shut off the camera, glanced around the office for a few moments, and turned the camera on again. Sure enough, the dining area was empty, and he gave a relieved chuckle. "There, see! That wasn't so bad." He switched his view to the stage, expecting to see the ugly purple rabbit where it had been before.

Except it wasn't there.

"Wait—wait—_what_?" Wheatley spluttered, frantically switching between cameras again. "But—but I told you to—you were supposed—_this is not what we agreed on_!" His vision came to the backstage room, where he immediately spotted a shadowed figure standing uncomfortably close to the camera. "Um… _hello_! That's not where you're supposed to be! Doesn't—doesn't even look like the sort of place you'd want to be in, I mean, it's… y'know, _spooky _in there, with all the heads—"

He'd meant to glance back at the table, but something else caught his optic: the power percentage at the corner of his vision.

_74%._

It was only 1 AM.

"…_Oh_," he whimpered, switching off the camera and drawing himself into his casing. "I—I forgot about that."

All this time, he'd been turning on the cameras and draining their power, and he still had _five hours _left to go.

He retracted his inner poles as far as they would go, pulling his faceplate inward, and wrapped his handles around his frame, as though all that would somehow protect him from these clearly-insane androids. "It's… it's all right," he assured himself, voice high-pitched in stress. "He's just havin' a walk, there—couldn't move for ages, centuries, probably, and stretchin' out the ol' joints… Probably doesn't even know I'm here. Probably just gonna walk around, then head back up to the stage. That's all it is. I just need to sit here, and—and wait it out. Yeah."

So he sat there, occasionally glancing into the pitch-black doorways on either side of him. He was tempted to turn on his flashlight, but he fought the urge, knowing it would waste power. Still, it seemed as though he was doing a good enough job; the power had been going down very little due to only the emergency lights being on. "Hmph," he muttered. "And _she_ thought I was a moron. I've got this under control."

Wheatley tried to relax, drawing out his faceplate to its neutral position and flexing his handles. According to his internal clock, it was sometime past 3 AM now—though he felt like it should have been _much _later, since he felt like he'd been here for ages—and in terms of power, he wasn't even below 60% yet! Granted, he hadn't even been looking at the camera for ages or using his flashlight, but who needs those?

"I can play your bloody ol' game, lady," he said with a smug grin. "You think you can scare me with a bunch've old robots who do nothin' but have a midnight stroll every once in a while? Pshaw! There's nothin' to worry ab—"

_Creak, creak._

His eye shields flew open, his face plate yanked itself inward, and his handles whipped into his body with a loud _CLANK_. Immediately he cringed, glancing around to see if anyone—or _thing_—had heard that, and flinched again upon hearing the same metallic creaking noise from earlier. "Wh-what…"

After taking a minute or two to determine that yes, he probably _could _spare a bit of that power to use something again, Wheatley brought up the camera, flicking through the screens until he came to the hallway on his left. With a strangled gasp, he spotted a long-eared figure looming in the shadows. "Oh, _gosh_," he whimpered. "He hasn't gone back yet? He's been at that for what, three hours?! Isn't that enough for a stroll? Pretty sure he's worked out all 'is joints by now—he can go back! S-so go on, go back! Go… go on back, really, nothing of interest back here. Go back to the stage…"

He blinked, suddenly realizing he hadn't checked the other androids in a while. One flick of the camera brought him back to the stage, where a single android in a bear suit stood. "_AH_!" he cried, frantically flicking through the cameras again. "_Where's the bloody bird_?!"

It didn't take him long to get back to the camera overlooking the dining area, and he froze, staring at the feed on the screen. The bird was there, all right, but unlike the rabbit, who seemed to enjoy hiding out in the shadows when he could, this one was standing full in what little light the room had, staring directly into the camera, and opening its beak in a threatening gape.

_Why did it have to be __**birds**__?!_

He turned off the camera and shut his optic, shivering uncontrollably as he tried to get that image out of his head. Those wide optics in those far-too-big-sockets and that mouth with all its _teeth_—who knew birds had those?!—and it was staring directly at _him_…!

Clanking in the west hallway reminded him that the rabbit was still out and about, and he peered through the camera there. Oddly enough, the rabbit was gone, but he could have _sworn _he'd heard it… A few switches of the camera, and he found it in a nearby closet, staring into nothingness.

Suddenly Wheatley was struck with an idea, and he switched off the cameras and frantically dug through his processor and the device he was connected to. He had control over the doors to the security room here, but what about the others? "Heh, maybe I can just trap that bloody rabbit in the closet—see how he likes being stuck somewhere! Er—" He faltered, blinking a few times. "Well actually he _was _stuck somewhere—on that stage—for quite a while, apparently, but—right, still, let's see…"

Unfortunately there was nothing he could do to control the other doors, and with a growl of frustration, he brought himself back to the cameras to see what the rabbit was doing now. Bloody android—even if he'd figured out how to shut the closet door on that thing, it wouldn't have done any good. The closet was empty now anyway.

"So much for that," Wheatley grumbled, turning off the camera. "Not even in the bloody closet anymore. Figures." He glanced from one door to the other before realization hit him. "B-but wait, if he's not in the closet, then—!"

Again he brought up the cameras, this time quickly discovering that it was not in the hallway, either, or at least, not in the line of that particular hallway camera. Hesitating for only a moment, he carefully switched to the camera that monitored the corner of the west hall, and almost immediately shut it off at the sight of a purple rabbit that was far, _far _too close to the camera, and glancing up into it.

…Did it know he was here?

Had it—had it _heard _him?

"_Um_—!" Wheatley squeaked, putting on the best casual grin he could muster. It was pretty awful, but, given the circumstances, he was impressed he could even _remember _how to grin. "So—uh—not sure if you actually, um, h-_heard _any of that—" he stammered, optic darting around the room frantically. "But, but if you did, j-just to let you know, I really d-didn't mean any of it. J-just a thing I do, y'know, playful insults—and, uh, 'bout the language, nasty habit, is all, trying to break myself of it, didn't mean anything bad in relation to you, so, I-I think you could… um… m-maybe leave me alone! Y-yeah, no real reason to talk to an ol' _core_ like me—honestly a, uh, _pathetic _bit of technology compared to your—er—obviously superior…"

_Clank, clank._

Wheatley's optic darted more rapidly, looking toward the door and window to his left. He couldn't see anything, but—wait, he had a flashlight, didn't he? "_Obviously _superior design, absolutely magnifi—" _click_ "—iiiiaaaaaAAAAA_AAAAAAAA_!"

It was moving.

The long ears twitched; the torso moved ever so slightly; and the wide optics, shadowed in their oversized sockets, slowly swiveled downward—down to look at _him_—

Some sort of survival instinct must have kicked in, because the electromagnetic door came slamming down before he remembered he even had access to it. It took him a second to realize that he was simulating heavy panting, and he was shaking uncontrollably.

It had _seen _him. It had seen him, and it knew he was a newer piece of technology—that android, that thing that had been shoddily repurposed into some piece of deranged children's entertainment, had gotten a good long look at Wheatley's superior mechanics, and it now knew what it was stalking.

It was going to kill him.

He'd never been so terrified—not since he was in the chassis, trapped immobile in the central core chamber, knowing full well that the lady was after him and not knowing where she was half the time. At least then he'd had spike plates and turrets and neurotoxin and bombs and everything. Here? He had a flash light and access to a couple doors and cameras.

He was going to be murdered, if his processor didn't short out from sheer terror first.

_Clank, clank, clank, clank…_

Hesitating for a moment or two, Wheatley swung his flashlight toward the door and opened it, flinching as he prepared to see that _thing _again. But only a dark doorway greeted him, and he turned his flashlight off with a strained sigh of relief.

"He's—he's gone. He's bloody gone…" Wheatley gasped, trying to relax. His handles managed to loosen a little, but still stayed close to his frame. "Oh… I-I don't know h-how much more of this I can—"

He paused, remembering GLaDOS's threat to send him to the incinerator. While he hated this job, the thought of being constantly surrounded by flames that scorched his casing—yet weren't hot enough to kill him—was a horrifying thought… but then, at least he wouldn't have to be stressing about robots that were constantly trying to kill him.

Neither one was particularly desirable, really.

But—but maybe if he could _prove _himself, here, somehow—prove that he was strong, that he was brave, that he was worthy of working _some_ other noteworthy job, he could get himself out of this. If he did well at this job—

The sound of mechanical clanking snapped him back to reality, and he checked his cameras again. The east hall camera showed a faint gleam of yellow, and Wheatley whimpered in fear at the sight of the bird from earlier staring blankly up into his camera. It was _always _the birds, wasn't it?

He turned off the camera as a sick nervousness coursed through him. But, as he did so, he noticed the time at the edge of his vision—5 AM. In just another hour—maybe less—this would all be over. He just had to survive another hour. He could do that. He could imagine GLaDOS's praise—well, no, he couldn't. He couldn't imagine her praising anyone. Not sincerely, anyway.

"Y-yes, I can d-definitely do this," he stammered, optic darting frantically around the room. "I am the _master _of not dying. H-haven't—haven't died _yet_, so—so it follows that I would be the master of not dying, right? Died fewer times than _she _has, any—"

_Ga-aaaaa-aaa-aaasp._

Bravado quickly dissipating, Wheatley flicked on his flashlight to the sight of wide, almost-human-but-not-quite eyes turning down toward him and a beak full of human-like _teeth_ slowly opening and closing as though it were _breathing_—

The electromagnetic door slammed down.

The bird was _definitely _scarier than the rabbit, he decided as he shut off the flashlight and pulled himself into his casing as far as he could go. His handles clenched tightly around him as though he would die if they ever loosened, his optic shut tight, and his faceplate turned downward so he was facing the bottom of his casing. All the while his vocal processor had glitched into repeating "oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh" over and over again, the pitch rising with each iteration until it went beyond the range of his aural sensors.

Suddenly he remembered the rabbit, and without looking, slammed the door to his left. Even with his optic shut, he could still see the percent of power he had left, and he could easily see that it was quickly draining. But he still had some left… _15%_, _14%_, _13%_, _11%_—wait, did it _skip _one?!

He sat there, shivering on the ancient stool, too scared to check on the killer androids that were surely still outside his doors and too scared to check the doors themselves. And the power was still draining—_9%_, _8%, 7%_…

_DING-DONG-DING-DONG_—

"_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!_" Wheatley screamed, optic snapping open and handles flailing wildly. The stool tipped precariously, and he desperately tried to flail in the other direction until the stool's legs steadied themselves. Unfortunately, he had knocked himself onto his side, barely avoiding falling.

"_Congratulations_," crackled a bored voice from the dusty speaker. "_You survived your first night._"

Wheatley would have liked to make a witty remark in response, but only managed a bout of dazed laughter.

"_Though I'm not certain how much 'congratulations' you actually deserve, given I found you in what appeared to be the core equivalent of a fetal position and sobbing._"

"I… I wasn't sobbing," he muttered lamely.

"_Whimpering, then. Which is equally pathetic. In any case, your shift is over, so I suppose I should get you out of there._"

Immediately he perked up, his optic widening. "Would you?! I-I mean, that'd be nice, I-I suppose."

GLaDOS remained silent, and for a few moments Wheatley wondered if she would just leave him here in this horrible office. Then—"_I'm not going to just let you off the hook, you know. You still deserve punishment for what you've done._"

"…Oh." He shuffled uncomfortably, only to yelp when he finally tipped off of the stool, swinging from the thick cable attached to his back port.

"_That I'm letting you work here is a _favor_, since I'm doing this instead of sending you straight to android hell. But since you're doing such a good job here, I can't torture you into insanity. That would hinder your job performance._"

Wheatley twitched. "W-well that's… um…"

"_So I'll do the next best thing._"

"Do I want to know what that i—IIIIAAAGH—" _POP!_ "Watch it, mate!"

The claw that had yanked him off of the cable drew him down into the floor—quite different from being transported through ceilings and walls—and back into more familiar parts of the facility. It was comforting to be back here, in a place that was… relatively sane, but he still shivered at the thought of what GLaDOS had in store for him.

Much to his surprise, he was being taken closer to the central core chamber. But rather than being taken there, the remote claw transported him to a room just beneath it. Strange. What was beneath—?

"WANNA GO BACK TO _SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE_!"

"The Space Core will never go to space."

"Will y'all shut up already? I think I've about got a way to bust us outta' here—"

Oh.

Well, a day in the corrupt core bin was better than a night in _that _madhouse.


	3. The Second Night

Hiya folks! Sorry for the wait—I'm working on a crapton of projects right now on top of working two part time jobs. But here's the next chapter! Hope you enjoy.

Oh also, before I forget, thanks to Jaywings for beta-reading this!

On with the fic!

* * *

"So why didn't you just… punch 'im in the face? That's what I would've done."

"Look, Rick, I don't think you've noticed, but none of us have _hands_. Or… fists."

"_I _do! See these fists here? And these guns?" The delusional core turned this way and that, flexing his handles. "Uh—unf! Check these out! Oh, wait, sorry, you don't have tickets to the _gun show_."

"The Adventure Core does not have arms, and if he did, they would be scrawny."

"You wanna say that again, pinky?!"

"S-S-S-SPACE FRIEND!" Space Core squirmed frantically. "A-ask robots—if they can go—to _SPACE_?!"

"Space does not exist."

Wheatley groaned, burying his faceplate into his lower handle. "Bloody corrupt cores…" he grumbled. But he tried to content himself with the fact that he at least was not scared out of his mind. Compared to being hunted down by military androids, being stuck in a bin of corrupted cores was almost comforting.

"SPACE SPACE PLEASE SPACE!"

"The Space Core is insane."

"Look who's talking now you crazy pink punk—!"

…_Almost_.

"Look, mates, I don't think you get it—these things were trying to kill me!"

"So don't let 'em," Rick said, eying Wheatley askance.

"Oh! Y'know what, I didn't think of that! I was thinking of just letting them murder m—_OF COURSE I WAS TRYING TO MAKE SURE THEY DIDN'T BLOODY KILL ME_!"

"Fact: The Intelligence Dampening Core needs to calm down."

"Space friend is loud."

"Chill, man. If you're really _that _scared, just tell 'em that Rick'll come punch 'em in the processor so hard, it'll revert all the way back to DOS!"

"P… _pretty_ sure that's not how that works…" Wheatley sighed. Why did he even bother?

"_Oh?_" came a voice from a nearby speaker, immediately causing all the cores to shut up. "_Strange. I thought I had destroyed all the dead cores._"

Wheatley tensed, and yelped as a claw clenched his sides.

"_Oh, that's right. You're not dead. _Yet."

Before he could protest, the claw yanked him away, the sound of whirring gears drowning out the cries of the corrupt cores.

* * *

"_Well, here we are again._"

Wheatley fought the urge to move, speak, or make any appearance of existing. Which he could only do for so long, especially when he was scared out of his mind. The lights flickered above him, poorly illuminating the tiny security room he was stuck in. "I-I'd rather _not _be here again, if it's all the same!"

"_Would you rather be in the incinerator?_"

He was seriously considering it.

"_I won't keep you long… but there _is _something else you should be aware of_."

Oh, _wonderful_. His optic twitched back and forth as he wondered if some new horror would suddenly manifest itself in the room. "Y-yeah?"

"_The nanobots have been continuing to fix up this wing, and found _another _android._"

If Wheatley had had a stomach, it would have surely plummeted.

"_So they've reactivated it. It seems to be a bit more… erratic than the others, and is locked into stealth mode_."

"S… stealth…?"

"_So long as a camera is on it, it will not move. Probably._"

"Oh." He blinked, simulating a gulping noise. "That's—that's good… t-to know."

"_This android is hidden behind the curtain in Pirate Cove, so be sure to keep an optic on him. We wouldn't want anything to… _happen_, now would we?_"

"'M sure _you _would," Wheatley mumbled.

"_What makes you say that? You did _such _a good job yesterday. I would _hate _to lose a devoted employee like you_."

Wheatley twitched; he couldn't tell if she was serious or not, but neither option bode well for him.

"_It appears to be midnight, so I won't keep you waiting. I would say 'good luck,' but I have recently conducted a Scientific experiment that proves luck nonexistent. Goodbye."_

The intercom clicked off, and once again, Wheatley was alone. He sat upon the ancient, unsteady stool and stared blankly ahead as it slowly sank in that yes, he was doing this again, and yes, he would be here for another six hours.

After a few minutes, he pressed his lower handle against the stool and carefully pushed himself up, shifting a little and simulating a deep breath. "Okay, Wheatley, you can do this," he said, trying to muster an expression that looked at least remotely confident. "Survived one night already, so, should be fine, should be fine. I know all their—er—_tricks_, yeah, so I'm good. Absolutely a _master _at this. Master hack—er, master… android… watcher… security… core… thing. Got it all in the bag. Yessir. Got it… _all _in the bag." He nodded, nearly fell off the stool, and rebalanced himself. "All in the bag. A great big bag. With no holes. And made of… iron."

While he was feeling a little better after that pep talk, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was forgetting something. Suddenly he remembered the display he'd been using last night, and quickly activated it. It cheerfully showed a clear _94% _at the corner of his vision, and he smiled. "Look at that! Haven't even gone below 90% yet! Oh, that is _brilliant_. Granted, haven't been using the stuff yet, the doors or the cam… eras…"

…_oh_.

Sheepishly he brought up the cameras, looping through the hallways, dining room, and backstage, to make sure nothing was out of order. Oddly enough, something _was_—he came to a section labeled "Pirate Cove" where a curtain was drawn around a circular stage, and in front of that was a sign stating, "Sorry! Out of order." Pirate Cove… wasn't that where the other military android was?

"Tch. Well, if it's out of order, there's nothing to worry about. Guess those nanobots didn't do such a good job of repairing that thing after all! You're slipping, Jer." With a final glance around the closed curtain, he switched to the center stage.

And there they were—three repurposed military androids, dressed up as silly, slightly frightening, slightly deranged animals. They were all frozen in the same position he'd first found them in yesterday, standing still on the stage.

"I see you, mates," Wheatley said with a smug grin. "There you are… I got you pinned down, now. I'm ready for you. I know all your tricks. Got my eye on you." He fought the urge to laugh—he had been scared of _this_? Honestly, he knew what he was doing. This was _easy_. "Go ahead and step off-stage. Go wander 'round. I got this all under control. There is nothing you can do to surprise—"

His vision cut to static.

"_AAAAAAAAAAAGH_!" he screamed, frantically trying to switch the cameras only to encounter static each time. For a few terrified moments he thought he had gone blind, until he turned off the camera and was greeted with the sight of the dimly-lit security room. His vocal processor was simulating ragged, heavy breathing as he tried to calm himself. "A-all right, then," he stammered, twitching. "So—so maybe they _do _have a few tricks left up their sleeves—metaphorical sleeves."

He shut his optic for a moment, waiting until his breathing calmed before he switched on the camera again. This time he got a clear view of the west hall, which was empty, and he breathed a sigh. "No worries, mate." He switched to the stage again. "Everything is gonna be just—"

The bird was gone.

Wheatley hated everything.

Frantically he switched through the cameras until he came to the east hall by the bathroom, and stopped. Unless the camera was glitching on him, it looked like the bird had been taking a step forward before freezing in place. "I saw that!" he cried, not caring if the android could hear him. "Saw you movin' just there, for a second—I _know_ you can move. Don't need to freeze in place like that. You're not hiding anything from _me_, mate." He narrowed his optic, for all the difference it made. Maybe if he showed these things he wasn't scared of them, they—no, no, he _was _scared of them—but if he could give them the _impression _that he wasn't scared…

He blinked and noticed that the head of the android had turned up toward the camera. With a strangled yelp he turned off the camera and shut his optic. "Oh, _gosh_. On second thought, _don't _move when you're on camera. Not that I'm _scared _or anything but… no need to move while—while the camera's on. Actually, no, don't move at all! While the camera's on or off. Or, or if you _do _move, move back _toward _the stage, and stay there. Unless you're already on the stage, in which case, don't move at all! Got it? So, in short, if you want to move and you're not on-stage, head _back _onto the stage, and if you want to move while you _are _on-stage, well, tough luck!" Finally he opened his optic and nodded carefully to himself. "Glad we got that settled."

As much as he didn't want to, he knew he would have to check the stage to be sure that rabbit wouldn't start waltzing around the place again. With a resigned sigh, he turned the camera back on and tried to activate the one pointed at the stage. He fumbled for a moment, forgetting his way around the cameras, and grumbled when he accidentally activated the wrong one. The blue curtains at Pirate Cove greeted him, and he almost switched the camera before something caught his optic.

Funny, he didn't remember the curtains being open before.

"What's going on over—" Wheatley's voice broke off into a strangled gasp as he caught sight of a shape between the gap in the curtains.

The glow of two unevenly-lidded optics stared out from the shadows, barely illuminating a couple rows of rather pointy fangs.

"_Hello_!" he cried automatically, his voice somewhere between strained cheerfulness and abject terror. "Good… to see you there, mate! _She _told me all about you, the uh, _fourth _android… Apparently you don't like having the camera on you! Well, too bad for you, 'cause I'll be watching you aaaall night! Aaaall ni—" He caught the _52%_ at the corner of his vision and cringed. "Bloody—well, no, _not _all night, but _most _of the night—no, I have to check on the others, too, just… aaarrrgh…" He shuddered and twitched. "_Stay there_, all right?!" he cried, voice cracking in stress. "Just… stay there…"

Shutting his optic for the briefest of moments, he switched to the main stage to find the bear all by itself. "You've got to be bloody _kidding_ me! It's only bloody _three AM_! I don't remember th-things being this bad last night—"

He suddenly realized he was wasting power, and turned off the camera. Now back in the security room, he found himself with his faceplate drawn inward and his handles clenched against his casing. "It's okay, mate," he breathed, forcing himself to relax. "It's fine. You've gotten yourself halfway through, and you've got another three hours left. You can do this, Wheatley." Once he had settled his faceplate and handles back to more-or-less their neutral positions, he turned on the camera again and peered into Pirate Cove.

But instead of the curtains being partially opened, they were now fully opened, and the android was frozen in mid-stagger.

"_WHAT_?!" Immediately Wheatley's handles clanked against his casing and his faceplate yanked inward. "Wh—that's not—_no_! I—I told you to stay put!"

If the android was listening, or could hear at all, it made no indication of it—it was not looking at the camera, but its eyes were fixated at a spot toward the east—no, _west_. He wasn't sure what it was looking at, but it didn't look happy about it, with its enormous maw gaping wide. Wheatley realized he had no idea what species this abomination was supposed to be. The pointed ears made him think "cat," but he was pretty sure cats didn't have faces that long. Granted, he was also pretty sure rabbits weren't purple—

Rabbits…

"Bloody _heck_," he hissed. "Look, _please _stay right there—I have to check on your friends here. I'll be right back—don't move a servo!"

Quickly he looked through the other camera feeds to find the rabbit, and yelped upon finding him quite close to his door and staring directly at the camera. "Oh—! Oh gosh, mate, leave me alone…!" he whimpered, turning off the camera and watching the doorway. "L-look, mate, I didn't mean what I said earlier—you can walk around as much as you want, just n-not here!"

_Clank, clank, clank…_

"_NOT HERE_! Go away go away go away go away go away go away…!" Hesitating only for a moment, he flipped on his flashlight just in time to see a giant purple rabbit stepping toward the doorway. "NOOO!"

Frantically he shut off his flashlight and slammed the electromagnetic door shut. "Goawaygoawaygoawaygoawaygoaway…" For a moment he wondered where the bird was, but a quick glance at his cameras showed that it was wandering around the dining room. That settled, he turned his attention back to the security room and shone his flashlight through one of the windows.

The rabbit glared down at him only for a moment before suddenly turning to look down the hallway, and walked away.

Wheatley let out a shuddering breath, opening the door and letting his handles relax. "Oh… g-guess you took my advice a-and went away. Brilliant." But before he could congratulate himself on his powerful skills of persuasion, the sound of footsteps pounding down the hallway reached his aural sensors. "Wha—?" Quickly he turned on the camera before he could hesitate.

And the android of Pirate Cove bolted down the hallway, its lower jaw flailing on a broken hinge.

"_WHAT_?!" Wheatley screamed, switching off the camera as the footfalls neared his room. "NO—NO—NO—NO—_NO_!"

In the split second before the door came down, he could see a pair of fiercely-glowing eyes staring at him and something reaching into the doorway.

What occurred next happened so fast that he almost couldn't process it.

There was an explosion of sparks, a loud _SLAM_, and a horrible metallic _crunch_—in what order, he wasn't sure, but he didn't have time to consider it as the air around him was filled with an unearthly _SCREECH_, loud and wild, a combination of anger, fear, and pain—or a glitched noise from an ancient vocal processor. His own voice was quick to join in the screams, and for a long time he didn't notice the constant _bang, bang, bang_ at the door.

Finally both the screams and the banging died down, and the clear sound of footfalls retreating down the hallway reached Wheatley's aural sensors. But he didn't check the cameras, instead shivering on the stool, his nerves utterly frayed. He could only stare blankly ahead, vocal processor outputting some sort of ragged, glitched, staticky noise. It was a few long minutes before he suddenly twitched and opened the door.

Shakily he looked to the doorway, and was only slightly surprised to find some mangled, flattened electronics sitting there—evidently part of the android had gotten caught in the door.

Some distant fragment of his mind noticed that it was past 5 AM, at least, but he didn't know if he could even make it _that _long.

"Oh…" he said, finally finding his voice again. "_Space _is better than this. _Anything _is better than this."

After a moment he narrowed his optic, as though he were too scared to look, and turned on the camera. The rabbit was still at the end of the hall, and the bird was by the restrooms, not far from his booth.

…Now what?

Wheatley turned off the cameras, blinking, and focused on the time. It really _was _after 5 AM, meaning he had less than an hour to go. Maybe… maybe he _could _make it. It looked like, what, half an hour or less? He could do that! He'd done it last night, certainly.

"Y-yeah, I… I think I've got this! I can—I can still make it. All I have to do is shut both doors, and I'll be nice, safe, and cozy right here in this little booth, so long as the power's still going. So long as the power's—"

_7%._

There it was in bright, accusing white text—practically screaming at him, _well done, mate, you've just wasted all your power. Hope you don't mind being cannibalized by androids. _

"G… ghh…" he choked, sparks spraying out of the corner of his optic.

Well, so much for that plan.

The power ticked down to 6%.

"Maybe… m-_maybe _I still have a chance, right? Don't need to shut the doors, after all—no one's there."

As if on cue, the tell-tale _clank, clank, clank _of robotic footsteps sounded from down the hallway.

_Both _hallways.

"You've got to be kidding me," Wheatley said flatly, staring blankly ahead. "This—this _cannot _be happening."

Slowly but surely the footsteps came closer, almost simultaneously. _Clank… clank… CLANK…_

After several agonizing minutes, he swore he could hear both footsteps directly outside the doorway, and threw caution to the wind. With a resounding _SLAM_, both doors came crashing down, and Wheatley waited.

_5%… 4%… 3%… _

They weren't leaving.

_2%…_

It was 5:50 AM.

_1%…_

He was going to die.

Before he could even shut his optic, the lights cut out completely with a resounding _hum_, and both doors used the last of their power to open wide. Two sets of glowing optics regarded him from the doorways, both staring directly at him. "No," he whispered, shivering so badly that he was in danger of falling off of the stool. "No, no, no…!"

_Thunk, thunk, thunk._

The eyes to his left moved—to his surprise, not into the room, but off to the side of the doorway as the android stepped away. Something else took its place, but what, Wheatley could not see.

There was a mechanical noise—like something being wound up—and a few seconds later, a pair of eyes opened just above a flickering light, which illuminated a set of brown jaws.

The bear.

It played a little tune that sounded almost _happy_—like something the turrets would sing—and for a moment, Wheatley was too bewildered and entranced to be afraid. He forgot that these robots were here to kill him, and that he was a sitting duck. The tune was pleasant—what could go wrong?

And abruptly the tune cut off, and the two sets of eyes to either side of him flickered, went blank, and disappeared.

_DING—DONG—DING—DONG_—

With a strangled yelp, Wheatley dropped backwards off of the stool, which flipped completely over, banging into his casing. "OWW—! Wh—what happened—"

"_I believe the phrase is 'saved by the bell.' Quite literally, in your case._ _Here, let me help you with that._" Half a second later, the lights flickered back on.

"Y…" Wheatley gasped. "You could do that at _any time_?!"

"_Of course not._"

GLaDOS did not elaborate, and Wheatley strained his optic to look up toward the doorways again. His vocal processor emitted a startled whimper at the sight of the bear he'd seen on the stage standing in the doorway, optics unlit. Its eye sockets seemed almost hollow, vaguely reminding Wheatley of a skull. The bird was the same, standing completely still in the opposite doorway.

"_I see you cut it quite close this time_," GLaDOS remarked. "_And speaking of cutting things…_"

Wheatley blinked, wondering what she was getting at, when suddenly a fiery, clawing pain erupted through his entire frame. "EEEEAAAAAAA_AAAAAGH_!" He screamed and flailed as the electricity surged through him for a few seconds, and went limp when it stopped. "Wh-wh-wh-what was—are you trying to bloody _kill_ me?!"

"_Whatever gave you that idea._" It wasn't a question, but she didn't give him time to answer anyway. "That_ was for breaking_ _part of one of the other androids._"

He shook his face, disgruntled. "Better him than me, lady!"

"_Except it is your job to keep these androids safe._" There was a hint of anger in her voice at that. "_They are fragile, primitive technology. Though not so primitive that the concept of _revenge _is foreign to them._"

"The concept of revenge?" Wheatley parroted, before it suddenly dawned on him—the android he'd damaged earlier—it might—

"_Well, enough of that_," GLaDOS said, ignoring the horrified look in Wheatley's optic if she could see it at all. "_Your shift is over._" Without another word she opened part of the floor. A claw whipped out to grab Wheatley, yank him off of his cable, and haul him down into the floor.

But as he was dragged away, he swore he saw the optics of the androids refocus onto his own…


End file.
